The cemeteries of New Orleans are renowned throughout the United States, indeed across the entire world.
Due to the marshy terrain beneath the surface, the region predominantly employs above-ground "suspended coffins" as burial structures.
The cemeteries are dotted with pyramidal, church-like, and castle-shaped structures, forming an ensemble that resembles a "city of the dead."
Nearly every family shares a single burial plot, with newly interred coffins placed atop the upper levels, while the lower chambers house the remains of all ancestors.
This truly embodies the concept of generations sharing the same hall.
It could be said that should anyone harbour such hatred towards a New Orleanian that they wished to reduce not only them but their ancestors to ashes, it would be an exceedingly easy feat to accomplish.
Cemetery No. 1 Lafayette stands as one of New Orleans' oldest burial grounds and among the world's most renowned cemeteries. Here, one may discover the resting places of numerous historical figures.
Among them is the tomb of the Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau, whose headstone is constantly marked with an 'X'.
To protect the cemetery and its monuments, Cemetery No. 1 is closed to the public for most of the year.
It is currently closed to the public.
Having scaled the walls of Poplar Springs Sanctuary that morning, the experienced Madison wasted no time in leading Ruboo to a secluded section of the enclosure. With a few deft moves, she effortlessly cleared the barrier.
"Where might the ghost be?"
Surveying the eerie graveyard, its rows of tall headstones casting an ominous shadow, Madison looked around eagerly.
Hope you're still this brave when you actually see one.
Realising he wasn't as bold as a girl, Ruboo touched the cross in his pocket. Glancing at the fading light and recalling their earlier fruitless search, he suggested:
"Ghostly activity usually happens at night. The sun's about to set, so let's wait a bit. Besides, we can explore the graveyard while we're here. I hear there are plenty of vampire legends about this place too."
"Vampires?" Madison's eyes lit up again. "Compared to ghosts, I'd much rather encounter a vampire noble—well-dressed, with refined manners, a handsome face, and centuries of accumulated life experience."
"But he'll drain you dry," Ruboo quipped.
Madison grew even more eager. "It might be worth a try. I've heard the sensation during the feeding process is a hundred times more intense than anything else."
Unfazed by the Western girl's boldness—a trait Ruboo had long grown accustomed to, unlike the reserved Eastern manner—he replied without hesitation: "Shall I get you a large pack of tissues?"
"Absolutely!" Madison batted her eyelashes. "And when my heart starts to stop, pull the vampire off me. It'd be such a waste to die after just one taste."
Ruboo replied with a deadpan expression: "No problem. Once we've caught a vampire, we'll do exactly as you say."
Their banter, delivered in a drawling, off-key cadence, managed to dispel much of the eerie, sinister atmosphere of the City of the Dead.
Night fell.
Compared to daylight hours, the First Cemetery of Lafayette appeared even more terrifying.
Madison no longer carried the nonchalance she'd displayed upon arrival.
At the slightest sound or movement nearby, she would tense up and dart her eyes around.
If even the formidable Madison reacted this way, what more could be expected of an ordinary person like Ruboo?
He wasn't some fictional protagonist born without a fear response.
The sort who'd have his heart racing watching a horror film – why else would he willingly expose himself to such hair-raising encounters unless absolutely forced?
Ruboo glanced at Madison, who was pressed close to him, their palms clasped tightly together without either of them realising when it had happened.
He thought to himself that calling for backup had been absolutely the right decision.
If nothing else, having another person nearby provided immense psychological comfort.
And so, the pair remained in the deserted graveyard, hearts pounding with fear, for a full hour.
Then...
Nothing happened.
Apart from the occasional nuisance of mosquitoes, not a trace of ghosts, vampires, or zombies was to be seen.
"Seems I won't be getting my vampire lover after all," Madison shrugged, her tone tinged with both disappointment and relief.
Ruboo, who'd been tense before discovering anything supernatural and now felt utterly deflated, was inwardly cursing his luck.
He glanced at the Containment Book, which remained utterly unresponsive.
Wasn't this supposed to be a haunted hotspot?
Not a single ghost in sight.
Or perhaps he'd arrived at the wrong time, and the ghosts, vampires, and such had no inclination to make an appearance?
Whatever the reason, Ruboo could only drag Madison away, thoroughly uninspired.
The pair ended up at a French restaurant called Muriel's for a perfunctory dinner.
Though the French cuisine was decent, the rumours about the restaurant's former owner, a man named Pierre Antoine Lepardi Jordan, who had gambled away his entire fortune and committed suicide here, still held no trace of his lingering ghost.
Clutching at straws, Ruboo headed to another notorious haunted spot widely discussed online: the Hôtel de Montléon at 214 Rue Royale in the French Quarter.
Upon arrival, Madison shot Ruboo a surprised glance, but after a moment's thought, she accepted his arm without protest and they entered together.
Using Madison's money, the pair booked a room.
Just as they prepared to take the lift upstairs, the doors opened on the descending carriage. A man wearing an ill-suited coat for the season hurried out, head bowed and expression harried, without glancing ahead. He collided squarely with Ruboo.
Ruboo was fine, unscathed.
The coat-clad man, however, was knocked straight to the floor.
"Sir, are you all right?" Ruboo instinctively reached out to help him up.
But the man in the coat scrambled to his feet without a word, ignoring Ruboo entirely as he shot out the door like a rocket.
"That bloke..."
Ruboo withdrew his hand and shook his head. Just as he was about to head for the stairs, he noticed a suitcase lying on the floor.
It appeared to be the very item the man had been clutching under his arm moments before.
Ruboo picked it up and, putting aside any previous grievances, kindly called back: "Sir, you've dropped something."
Unexpectedly, mentioning it only made the man in the overcoat run faster, vanishing from sight in an instant.
"What on earth is wrong with this man? Abandoning his own belongings?" Ruboo, now holding the bag, was utterly perplexed.
Madison, who had observed the scene, remarked abruptly, "Have you considered the possibility that the bag might contain explosives?"
"Eh?"
Ruboo looked bewildered at first, then utterly horrified.
Bloody hell!
I nearly forgot we're in the States.
Recalling how the man had fled in such a hurry, he instinctively wanted to chuck the bulging bag away. But then he thought: what if bumping it triggered some button and it blew up?
Ruboo, breaking out in a cold sweat, immediately turned to Madison, hoping the native-born American with her broad experience might have a solution.
"Why not open it and see?"
Uncharacteristically, Madison didn't beat a retreat first. Instead, he spoke with a tone that suggested he'd seen it all before.